In My Life

It’s the deadly hour after lunch on a very warm afternoon and I fear that our bus driver is struggling to stay awake. I see him constantly doing things like taking off and putting on his gloves, stretching, changing his seating position, taking swigs of what looks like an energy boosting drink. I could easily drop off too if I wasn’t keeping an eye on him and being ready to scream him awake if he does nod off. What doesn’t help is the straightness of this highway – not a bend for the last 100 miles. Also, we’ve driven into that notorious Los Angeles haze – almost as thick as yesterday’s fog. And, all but three of the passengers are asleep, including Glenys.

This haze, this smog, is like the smoke of a bush fire. The hills on both sides are bald, parched by the continuing drought in California. We passed a dam an hour ago that had water, but you could see just how far the water level has fallen – a staggering amount. Still, the grape vines and orange trees look lush – fed, no doubt, by drip irrigation. Overhead we’ve seen migrating geese, on the ground elks of some kind.

I hope we make it to the airport in one piece…..

After dinner tonight we thought we’d walk back to our hotel a different way – up Turk Street – little knowing we were going to walk into a mass of drug deals. You could see money changing hands, a hubbub of frantic activity, and then young guys in cars sharing whatever they’d bought. By comparison, Eddy Street, our street, is an avenue of tranquility and innocence; yet we had thought all along that it was a den of darkness. Anyway, we got back safely.
By the way, our Indian dinner at the New Delhi was excellent.

Tomorrow we leave for L.A. to catch our flight back home. We’ll travel by Greyhound bus because it’s the only transport that can get us there with enough time spare to be processed at the airport. It will be a very early start so we’ve already started packing.

This morning, after the long walk to Greyhound, we took the ferry to Sausalito, a tourist resort like Noosa or Byron Bay, across the bay, which ought to have given us grand views of the Golden Gate Bridge; but the fog was so thick you could hardly see the surrounding water. I guess this is the fog that keeps alive the redwoods at Muir Woods. The ferryman kept sounding the fog horn because visibility was literally next to nothing.

At Sausalito we spied a long queue waiting to buy hamburgers; so we joined them. They were being made right before eyes, cooked over a flame, and put together on an assembly line of carefully labelled grease-proof paper. They were good! By the time we had eaten ours, the queue had doubled in length down along the street. By the way, the shop was barely two+ metres wide and manned by three Spanish-speaking brothers. What a gold mine of a business!

We took the bus back to SF to avoid the lingering fog (already about 2.00pm) and bought ourselves something to take home – Glenys bought jeans, I bought Bose speakers for ($99). Outside Macy’s we saw a young guy being tackled to the ground by three other young guys. To me it looked like a mugging, but the ‘muggers’ were Macy’s security, and the guy on the pavement was a shoplifter. In the scuffle another guy escaped, dropped his loot, but retrieved it before running into the hands of other members of the security team around the corner. Boonah is going to seem very dull after all we’ve seen over these past five weeks!

Along the way we’ve seen the doubles of many people back home – including some of you. And, believe it or not, we saw a woman from West End in the crowd yesterday. We don’t know her personally but when we lived there she would often ask us to light her cigarette or lend her some money.

Don’t get me wrong about SF, it’s a beautiful city, built on many hills, overlooking a spectacular bay, and has a so much to enjoy. Sadly, it is also home to many broken people who line the streets just back from the middle of downtown. I guess if you’re down-and-out, SF would be a nice place to live. I can’t help thinking back to the 1960s and 70s when we were urged, in song, to wear some flowers in our hair if we were coming to San Francisco. I guess many came hoping to find a nirvana, but never did. After a while the drugs don’t work, and they leave you ‘unfixably’ damaged. Thank God, we got rescued before we crossed that point of no return.

Today we’ve seen another side of San Francisco – the streets near the First Baptist Church are strewn with people asleep on the sidewalks – those awake in their ‘beds’ looking half-past dead. Around the same streets are many more damaged people than we’ve seen in any other American city. Those on their feet seem to be stoned out of their brains – often speaking to invisible companions. There are some like that near our hotel, but not so many, and as our local corner store owner told us, they’re not bad or dangerous, just wrecks after years in jail or after doing things to mind and body way beyond breaking point. Glenys keeps saying when we see these people, “I could never live here!”
She had another fairly sleepless night and is looking tired today, so I’ve got her resting while I read the NY Times and write this update.
After church we walked back through the downtown streets and could see just how crowded it is everywhere – so much more than on week days. And it’s evident, today, that this is the gay capital of America.

Late yesterday afternoon we went to see a new American movie called Argo, which tells the true story of the attempt to get six escaped American embassy staff, hiding in the Canadian embassy in Tehran, out of Iran, while others, less fortunate, were being held captive for 444 days by the Iranians in the last days of Jimmy Carter’s presidency. Daring deception was used in the rescue bid, and I couldn’t remember what happened in real life back in the late 1970s. Anyway, the audience cheered and clapped at various stages throughout the movie when things went right. I had wanted to see this movie for this very reason: to witness the local response to what was a very humiliating time for Americans. They still take pride in their country and applaud the efforts of those who risk their lives for the sake of others.

Afterwards we had dinner at a place called Max’s where we were glad we ordered just one main and a salad because that was more than enough for our Australian-sized stomachs. Our one dessert would have been enough for four people – we certainly couldn’t finish it.

Tuesday morning we take a bus to L.A. to catch our plane back to Australia. What a time we’ve had!

When we got on the bus with four other people I was thinking, “Well not many people are interested in natural beauty and 800 year old trees any more!” But as we went on the bus filled and by the time we got there it was like Woodstock – literally thousands had come by car, by bike, on foot. And what a place! The only word that comes to mind, and I rarely use it, is awesome.
Our first bus driver from the city was a glamorously dressed black woman, with Afro, jewelry, and enormous sunglasses. She could have been a jazz singer or ancient rock star. She took us over the Golden Gate Bridge to the shuttle bus.
I was executing the Muir Woods to be a little clump of Redwoods, instead it’s a huge forest with creeks running through it. Salmon swim up stream from the ocean to spawn here. The trees need to be seen to be believed, the sunlight breaking through and the quiet of the forest need to be experienced. There were only a few moments of that silence because foreigners talked loudly most of the time, unaware of the signs calling for quiet.
It was a mission to get here, the hairpin bends hair-raising, but well worth it! I took a stack of photos because it was hard to resist.
By the way, these redwoods are the tallest and oldest living things on earth. Some are 800+ years old, 85+ metres high, and 4 metres wide. Each one needs 50 gallons of water a day. Because of the dryness of California they would not get nearly enough water to live except for the fogs that roll in from the Pacific dropping their dew all over this forest. Amazing, hey?

The good news from Apple is that my MacBook can be repaired for $260 when I get back home. Just needs a new screen. That will please the insurance people.
We’ve had a good day – exploring, shopping, eating some delicious food, visiting the Contemporary Jewish Museum, and riding on a streetcar down to Fisherman’s Wharf.
That museum was interesting. They had an exhibition of B&W photos from the great depression era to the 1950s, another on the life of the Jews in SF, and a musical ‘display’ on the links between black musicians and Jewish songwriters. We could hear the songs and read the stories.
Found a quiet retreat called Yerba Buena near there which features a Martin Luther King tribute behind a waterfall.
What’s surprising about SF is the sharp contrasts in just a few blocks from downtown. Our hotel is in Eddy Street which is six blocks from Union Square but near the hotel, in Ellis Street, there are so many damaged people – drugged, drunk, living derelict lives, and aggressive towards one another. You feel threatened as you walk by. Further along there is a little old Chinese woman sifting through the rubbish bins for empty cans and plastic bottles. Then, downtown we see the other side of the coin – the prosperous and the snappily dressed. Another long queue waiting for their turn to buy an iPhone 5. Two worlds in one city. It just keeps us mindful of how good we have it back home.
This morning, one news commentator was saying that all the factors that preceded the fall of Rome are present in America today. She was asking experts how to avoid a similar collapse. One was saying that globalization was the problem, shifting jobs offshore; another, that new technologies had caused the unemployment problem. Both agreed the deficit needs to be tackled by unpopular measures like raising taxes – but no politician would dare mention that ‘t’ word.

We’re at the laundromat around the corner from our hotel. It’s been quite an experience already and we’re still at the washing stage. Just been evicted from the old church pew, where we were waiting, by a drugged-out black man who has now swathed himself in a sheet and blanket. Maybe this is his daily resting place. Keeps nodding off but then suddenly he begins to sing along with the radio playing in the background.
Earlier two black guys were here secretly carrying out what looked like a drug deal. While that was happening a little Latino woman with no English gave me a quarter because I was one short, and put in three of her dimes to get some detergent. All this time Glenys was talking with anther woman who gave her a detailed autobiography.
To thank my helper I went up the road and bought her some peanut-toffee at a Chinese pork-bun shop. She was incredulous and didn’t want to take it till Glenys gave her hug and said, “Please”.
Apparently there is a big marathon here this weekend and so we are lucky to get a hotel room. Now we’re negotiating with the Filipino owner so we can stay till Tuesday.
We both slept well and long.
My only gripe about all our accommodation this far: they only give you donnas, duvets, comforters (call them what you like) and they trap the heat and are just too hot for me. I much prefer cotton or woollen blankets.
Later we’ll go to the Apple Store to see if my MacBook is fixable and then begin exploring.
Washing finished now.
Before I could put the money in the dryer, the little Latino woman with no English was coining it up with her quarters: her way of paying me back for the toffee?

Last Monday afternoon at 2.00pm we left Washington, today, Thursday, at 4.00pm we got to San Francisco – tired, ready for a shower, and a good sleep. We were to be met at the station by someone who had offered to drive us to the Golden Gate Bible College where we had a unit for $80/night – but that fella didn’t show up and it was going to be $70+ for a taxi. Instead I booked us into an inner City hotel for $100. We are at the Regency Inn in Little Saigon.
After long showers and a change of oohed we ate a delicious Vietnamese meal just around the corner – a fish dish with lettuce, mint, and several different basils plus a shrimp sauce, then Pad Thai with seafood. And the two young waiters kept us entertained telling us about SF and how to cook their food. It was the Bodega Bistro.
The hotel is old but renovated and the girl on the desk is very helpful. We think we are in the right place, in the city, walking distance from the city centre. This is our last stopover and many have told us that this is the best city in the U.S. We’ll see.